


A Theory of Evolution

by elegant_graffiti



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:19:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegant_graffiti/pseuds/elegant_graffiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things just happen that way sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Theory of Evolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miabicicletta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miabicicletta/gifts).



He knew a lot about dinosaur bones. He didn’t know much about his own, but he could tell from the x-ray the doctor showed him that his forearm was broken.

To be fair, he didn’t really need the x-ray. The loud crack and horrendous pain gave it away as well.

“…then we need to cast your arm.” The doctor paused in his explanation. “Alan. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. For a moment there it looked like you weren’t listening,” the doctor said.

“Sorry.”

“I know you’re a little loopy from the pain meds. Is there anyone you’d like us to call?”

“No.”

A few hours later, he was back at home, sitting on his couch with some pain meds, a somewhat useless arm, and piles of his student papers to read through. 

Right. That’s what he’d been doing when he’d gone to get his red pens, upstairs in his desk. On the way back down, one of Ellie’s disregarded shoes lay on the floor at the top of the stairs. He didn’t see it. Falling ensued.

Well, the papers could wait. Fortunately, he hadn’t taken out his writing arm. He also had managed not to damage any nerves or do anything that would put going on future digs in jeopardy. He’d managed not to hurt anything that affected his motor skills, which was a relief. His pride was a bit bruised, but that wasn’t permanent. You can’t gently chisel fossils out of rock if you can only perform the task with all the tenderness of a rampaging tyrannosaurus.

Alan got up, went to the refrigerator and pulled out some leftover Chinese food, and a Sam Adams. He put the Chinese in the microwave, set the clock for 1 minute on high power, and pulled a beer opener out of one of the kitchen drawers. 

He stared between the beer opener and the bottle. He couldn’t hold the bottle down and use the opener at the same time. He wasn’t supposed to strain his arm in any way. He thought about calling Ellie and giving her grief. It was her shoe’s fault he was in this mess, but eventually he sat down on a kitchen chair, held the beer steady with his knees, and used his good arm to take the top off with the bottle opener. 

He’d managed to master being gentle by the time he went on his first archeological expedition when he was in graduate school. It was good, because through most of his childhood he fumbled and bumbled his way through the world. If there was something to knock over, he did it. If there was something to break, he broke it. His coordination greatly improved in high school when he took up running track for the school team. Hurdles helped him learn to be more graceful. Sure, he tripped over his feet a lot at the beginning, but he got better at it.

He flipped through channels. Skipping by evening news golf highlights, he stopped on PBS, where there was a show on about birds – hummingbirds, to be exact. Descendants of dinosaurs. Beautiful, graceful, and millions of years after being at the top of the food chain – evolution’s bitch. 

He balanced his plate on his lap and managed to use his fork with his broken arm and his knife with his good arm. He was impressed with how well he was already adapting to limited use of his arm. He could barely drive himself home, and now he could at least maneuver his utensils. Okay, so it was a baby step, but it was a baby step in the right direction.

Not long after the show about hummingbirds was over, he got a phone call.

“Dr. Grant! How are you?” 

“I’m all right, Mr. Hammond. How are you?”

“Excellent. I have good news! InGen has guaranteed to fund your dig next summer on the condition that the results go on display California and then New York.”

“That’s fine by me. Why does it matter?”

“It’s some kind of legal issue. The Natural History Museum in San Diego has right of first refusal or something like that.”

Once upon a time, he would have insisted that the bones first be shown in New York because the audience in New York usually raised a lot more money. Plus, people in New York seemed less relaxed and more focused on what they were doing. Everyone in California was so relaxed. Too relaxed. They never seemed to get around to actually doing half the stuff they said they were going to do. New York was better. 

But over the years, it was much easier to access funds in general if you just gave the right people what they wanted. His years of being a hothead were over, and he’d dug up far more fossils that way, which in the end, he realized, was all he really cared about.

“Well San Diego is welcome to them after we dig ‘em out of the ground.”

“Great, great! How’s Dr. Sattler?”

Oh right. Mr. Hammond didn’t know.

“She’s doing well, always on the move. She’s guest lecturing on prehistoric pollen and fertilization at the University of Chicago this week.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. Listen, I’m having dinner with my grandchildren in half hour, so I have to run. It was good to speak with you, Dr. Grant! We’ll see each other again soon.”

“Sure, Mr. Hammond. Thank you.”

The phone clicked on the other end. Alan hung his phone back on the hook. He stood up and threw out what was left of his leftovers. How many days was Chinese food really safe, anyway?

He went over to the staircase. Still at the bottom was Ellie’s shoe. He picked it up and went back upstairs into the bedroom. He looked around. There was still so much of her stuff there. She’d been coming back for it, periodically.

He looked at the floor, where there were at least six pairs in plain sight. There was probably another pair or two lurking around to trip him in the bathroom or something, but he’d look around more closely another time, when his meds made him feel less wobbly. He picked up all the shoes he saw, opened up a traveling bag, and dumped them inside. That would teach those shoes to break his arms. They’d learn.

Ellie was guest lecturing in Chicago this week. It had been in her plans for months, but she hadn’t lived with him in nearly six weeks.

They were still great friends. They adored each other and spoke almost every day. But neither of them could really get by what had happened on the island. And even though that was why they were so close, it was the same reason they had to be apart. He and Ellie both had nightmares of severed limbs and chewed car tires and being chased by creatures smarter and more deadly than anything they’d ever encountered. Very few other people would understand what they went through, and yet being constantly reminded of it made it too hard to live together.

Up until then, their relationship had been solid. They’d tackled a lot of things – conflicting schedules, opposite political views, her parents. But getting by this thing that happened to them on the island…that, they just couldn’t get by. 

Not that they didn’t try. They even went to therapy for awhile, but that didn’t last long. Both of them thought the therapist was an idiot. They went on with their lives for a couple more months, but things just weren’t the same.

The day Ellie suggested that maybe she should move out, he didn’t fight with her about it. Maybe an older, less evolved version of himself would have tried to get her to stay. But this version just helped her pack and told her he loved her and if she ever needed anything his door was always open. 

Everything was the same, but somehow, it was different. Maybe that’s just what happened sometimes. You just grew closer and closer apart. His phone rang again. He answered.

“Hello?”

“Alan! I wanted to check in today. How are you?”

“Fine. Well, almost. One of your shoes tried to kill me.”

“Sounds like a good story.”

“Definitely. It’s a story of espionage and attempted murder. But tell me about the guest lecturing first. Were the students interested in prehistoric fertilization of plants?”

“Of course. It was a room full of nerds and I was the nerdiest.”

“Nerdiest?”

“You know, possessing the most nerd qualities.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I get it. So the same as the last time you lectured at the University of Chicago?”

“Yep. No change.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope this piece was enjoyable. I tried to make it bittersweet, and a bit funny, not overwhelmingly sad. It's a time of good cheer, afterall. Happy Yuletide!


End file.
